


Twelve O'Clock

by Forestfire34720



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestfire34720/pseuds/Forestfire34720
Summary: My precious baby girl. She's dead.





	Twelve O'Clock

I have to get to her.

Every agonizing second feels like an hour as I hastily and messily park the car and rush through the double doors.

"May I help you?" the woman at the desk asks, looking up calmly.

"Lau—Black Canary," I gasp, leaning over the counter. "Her room—where is it?"

The woman turns and types something in. "Operating room three," she answers, giving me a scrutinizing look. "2nd floor."

I take off like a bullet. The thought of taking an elevator up, of waiting and standing until those doors opened to my floor, is too much for me to bear. So instead, I rush up the stairs, taking them two, three at a time. I plow down the hall, turn a corner, and stop.

Oliver Queen stands there, solemn and grim-faced. My heart rises into my throat.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Deep inside me, I think I already knew the truth, but the pained look in Queen's eyes just confirm it. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. His torn eyes have already told me everything.

I slide to the floor weakly, my legs unable to hold me up with this new grief pressing down on my shoulders. I can feel tears in my eyes, agony in my heart.

My breathing shakes, and I grasp the wall, letting it support me as sobs fill my chest.

"When?" I ask hoarsely, looking up at Queen.

"Eleven-fifty-nine," he answers quietly, sounding more pained, more vulnerable, more weak than I have ever heard him.

I stagger upwards to look at the clock, and my heart shudders to a stop inside my chest.

Twelve O'Clock, it reads. Twelve O'Clock.

I press my eyes close, but nothing can stop the tears from leaking out and sliding down my face.

"I'm sorry," Queen says softly, looking away.

I don't answer.

My girl.

My precious baby girl.

She's dead.

She's dead, she's gone, I'll never see her again.

I've lost her.

Forever.

I sink to the floor and cry.


End file.
